


Duet for Strings in D Major

by Mystrana, whatthefoucault



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (I think... this is the first time someone's used that as a tag??), Anal Sex, Bottom!Bucky, First Time Together, Fluff and Smut, Illustrated, M/M, Oral Sex, Smol!Steve, minivan sex, musician!AU, that goddamned cupholder, top!steve, wedding muscians, wee bit of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 23:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17887139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrana/pseuds/Mystrana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefoucault/pseuds/whatthefoucault
Summary: Steve Rogers, professional musician, is in a bind. He’s supposed to play a harp/violin duet at a wedding tonight, but his harpist just cancelled on him and it’s not like you can just throw a stone and hit a harpist in this town.Bucky Barnes, professional harpist, is new to the area and doesn’t have plans for tonight. And he’s got a really nice ass.Not that Steve Rogers, who’s a professional, mind, is staring. Because they’re just going to play this wedding and Steve’s just there to do his job, despite Bucky’s unreasonable amount of sass (and that aforementioned ass).It’s not like they’re going to bang in Bucky’s minivan.Right?





	Duet for Strings in D Major

**Author's Note:**

> A great many thank yous are in order!!!! 
> 
> First, thanks to the lovely and amazing [ Sami](https://twitter.com/samikelsh) for picking my fic and providing three (3!) adorable paintings in addition to copious amounts of cheerleading! Thank you so, so much for capturing Steve and Bucky so perfectly. (She's also on [ tumblr](http://whatthefoucault.tumblr.com/) and [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefoucault/pseuds/whatthefoucault/works)!)
> 
> A huge thank you to [ JC](https://twitter.com/JCtheBird) for providing the excellent title based solely off of my description of "they play in a wedding and then bone in a minivan." He's also on [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman/works)
> 
> As always, one million thanks to [Agent Coop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCoop/pseuds/AgentCoop/works) for helping me conceive this fic and then for alpha and beta reading as well as providing copious amounts of cheerleading during the SEVERAL MONTHS it took me to write 10k. @_@ She's on [tumblr](https://iamagentcoop.tumblr.com/) as well!
> 
> I was also lucky enough to have [ Pan](https://twitter.com/panacea_knits) lay eyes on this fic as well and point out several inconsistencies. Thank you!! Here's her [Ao3!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panacea_knits/pseuds/panacea_knits)
> 
> And finally, I had another great author beta read as well. (Seriously how am I so lucky?) Anyhow! [Snuzz](https://twitter.com/spacerenegades) aka [Crinklefries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crinklefries/pseuds/crinklefries) also pointed out a few rough edges for me to smooth over. Thank you for your time!
> 
> The end result is a fic that's smooth-bodied like a fine wine, with hints of cedar and, fuck, I'm not good with wines, rosemary or something? Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it! <3

There was no good reason for Steve to be sitting at his kitchen table, staring at his phone at 8am on Saturday, April 27th, also known as the fucking _start of wedding season_ and the day he had three gigs to juggle.

So, ok, there were a couple good reasons for him to be on edge. No, it wasn’t like he was ever going to forget how to play Pachelbel’s fucking Canon. And he needed to work if he wanted to make money.

Just...It had been so nice to have a few weekends without the stress of managing musicians who couldn’t find the end of their instruments without his guidance.

So he kept staring at his phone as he ate his Kashi GoLean Crunch, expecting something to go wrong and hoping that it wouldn’t.

His luck didn’t hold up.

A message from Tony lit up the screen. The previewed words were “sorry I can’t…,” and Steve already had a hand massaging his temples as he unlocked his screen.

_Sorry I can’t make it tonight. Something came up. Best, Tony._

Steve fought a sudden urge to flip over the table. Visions of strewn cereal and milk seeping into the floor danced across his mind and he sighed. He didn’t have time to clean up this Tony mess, let alone a puddle of cereal and milk. He took a few deep breaths instead and smashed out an “OK” to Tony.

 

 

Steve grumbled as he texted because he couldn’t even take a moment to be pleased at himself for the highly professional response. He’d needed to start making phone calls at least five days ago if he wanted any hope of salvaging the situation.

“It had to be my fucking harpist,” Steve growled as he waited for Natasha to pick up her phone. “It couldn’t be a violinist. I could _find_ a violinist.”

“Why are you calling me at 8:02 on a Saturday morning?” Natasha didn’t sound amused.

Steve couldn’t blame her; there was only one reason he’d bug her on a Saturday morning. “You’ve been awake since five, don’t give me that.” He took a breath. “Tony cancelled on me and I need a harpist for my evening wedding. Tell me you’ve got someone, Nat.”

The stunned silence on Natasha’s end lasted for the worst three seconds of Steve’s life before she forced a laugh. “A harpist, day of? For a violin duet? Steve, why can’t you have normal musician problems?”

Steve frowned at his phone, at the sun shining in the sky, at the lack of a fucking harpist. “I don’t know. I just match musicians with events, point them in the right direction and hope for the best. Usually it works out.”

“Have you reached out to anyone else yet?” Natasha asked, her tone shifting into business, and Steve forced himself to do likewise, consulting his mental list.

“I’d hoped you’d have someone, but I’m going to call Wanda. If not her, I guess I can check with Phil. Maybe he’s got someone who’ll be willing to drive an hour on a half-day’s notice.” Steve worried his bottom lip as he considered his list of options.

The list of _harpists_ was way too short, and he had to be at the first ceremony by one. Steve had to get someone in place before he got tied up at his gigs.

“I’ll see if I can rope anyone into it,” Natasha offered, enough of a promise to help Steve release just a touch of tension in his forehead. “I’ve only got a handful of options, so don’t hold your breath on me.”

“If you can get someone, I’ll owe you, big time.” He rubbed at his temple with his free hand, pretty sure he’d already worked a groove into his forehead.

“Great.” Natasha’s grin translated through her voice. “I’ve got my annual fourth of July gala coming up that I’m gonna need you for.”

Steve grimaced, but it wasn’t the worst threat she could make. “You get me a harpist, and you just name the times and the places that you need me.”

He hung up with Natasha and started dialing Wanda’s number as his bowl of cereal went soggy on the table.

 

*

 

Wanda was out of town playing a wedding five hours away. Phil promised to send out a text to his group, but couldn’t guarantee anything. Steve wasn’t panicking, not yet. He was running through a list of harpists from other nearby symphonies and looking up their phone numbers, preparing himself for the unparalleled fun of making cold calls.

“Hey, good morning, I’m calling for Maria Hill?” He tried to stand taller than his five foot six inches as if that would give him the clout he needed to pick up a harpist for the evening.

“This is.”

She hadn’t hung up, which was a good sign, so he barreled on.

“Steve Rogers,” he said in a voice like a handshake. “I manage Star Musician Entertainment and I’ve got a wedding tonight at 8 that needs a harpist, if you’re at all interested.”

He couldn’t get to the compensation, because she was already turning him down. “Sorry, Steve. If it were tomorrow, I could make it work. But I can’t, not tonight.”

Steve switched to his friendliest voice even as he screamed internally. “I understand. Thanks so much for taking the time to talk to me. Have a wonderful day, Maria.”

The next two calls weren’t any more successful, but Steve didn’t throw his phone against the wall. He just focused on getting his music together for the first ceremony. He was unlocking his car, violin in hand when Natasha called him back.

“Oh, god, Nat, tell me you’ve got someone.” Steve tucked his violin case safely on the back seat, mentally preparing himself for Natasha to say no so he could be pleasantly surprised when she revealed that she had worked her magic and gotten him a harpist.

“Don’t get too excited. I don’t have anyone yet,” Natasha said, and Steve practically deflated, tossing his sheet music next to the violin.

“Ok.” Really, it was admirable that he didn’t ask her why the hell she was calling him.

“I might, though,” she was saying, and suddenly, she had Steve’s full attention again.

“Might. Like, fifty percent? Eighty percent? Two percent?” Steve bit at his lower lip as he slipped into the driver’s seat and checked the time. “Give me an idea of how cautious I should be here.”

“He’s brand new to the area as of a week ago, and I’m almost positive that he’s free tonight, so it’s just a matter of me convincing him to play a duet with a hot, available guy.” She laughed. “I mean you.”

Steve ignored the friendly jab because Natasha sounded pretty confident that she could convince this mystery harpist. He still didn’t want to take a chance as he shifted into drive, checking his mirrors as he backed out of the driveway. “Tell him I’ll give him an extra hundred for the short notice.”

Natasha laughed. “Ok. Yeah. Guess I ought to learn the harp, hey? Anyhow, I should be able to confirm within the hour.”

“Just text me. I’ll be playing at one. And Nat? I’ll play your damned gala even if you don’t get him. I appreciate you helping me out today.”

“Ah, it’s nothing, Steve.” Natasha was probably smiling. Steve couldn’t tell for sure. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I’d try, yeah,” he agreed, tossing his phone onto the passenger seat and flooring it to his first destination.

 

*

 

Steve’s hands weren’t shaking during the opening prelude, but he had to work to not bounce his knee out of time to the music. He channeled his nervous energy into playing with as much gusto as Bach’s Air on the G String allowed.

If Scott or Luis noticed Steve’s rather intense rendition, they didn’t comment on it. Luis just looked for Steve’s cue to start the next song, and together, they continued to fill the incredibly gaudy venue with lovely music.

If it weren’t for the looming uncertainty of finding another musician for the evening wedding, Steve would have happily spaced out into the simple motions of playing a familiar song. Instead, every measure meant he was that much closer to having his first day of the season close on a horrible note.

By the end of their fifth song, Scott glanced over at Steve during their brief pause. “You doing ok, man?”

Steve nodded, glancing around at the room full of guests. A sudden image of showing up to the next wedding and telling the bride there was no harpist flashed through his mind and he winced. “Be doing better if you knew a harpist that wanted to play a wedding tonight.”

Luis raised an eyebrow and only just managed not to let out a laugh. “Friend, you might as well ask him if he knows how to pick a lock--”

“Next song,” Scott interrupted smoothly, shouldering his viola and fixing Luis with a look before turning to Steve. “We don’t know any harpists free for tonight, sorry.”

Scott launched into the next song before Steve could say anything else. His phone buzzed in his pocket on the downbeat of the second measure. It was the proverbial unscratchable itch, and the next three minutes stretched out to three hours, three days, three goddamned fucking eternities of not knowing whether or not he had a harpist for the evening.

He refused to entertain the thought that the text could be another musician canceling on him for the 4:15 wedding.

Who got married on the quarter hour anyhow?

When they finished the song, Steve slipped his phone out of his pocket and placed it on his stand next to the sheet music, trying to glance at the start of the text message Natasha had sent. His phone displayed the preview.

_He says he can do it, but..._

Steve hoped to hell that the rest of the text wasn’t a giant cluster. He pictured something along the lines of “he needs a crystal stool to sit upon.” Images of running to the nearest Big Lots and searching for a crystalline seat cover danced through his head as they moved into the processional.

But he would. If he had to spend every one of the thirty minutes he didn’t have between ceremonies sourcing a crystal stool for the angel of a harpist who agreed to the last minute gig, he would do it with a smile plastered on his face.

By the time they finished the bride’s processional song and the ceremony began, Steve was entertaining thoughts of Nat’s text ending with ‘...he’ll have to align his harp with the westerlies before you can begin.’

Steve took a deep breath. He’d do whatever came after that ‘but’ if it meant he wouldn’t have to show up for a violin and harp duet without a harpist.

With a glance to make sure everyone’s attention was on the couple on the stage, Steve grabbed his phone and, with the calmest, most professional tap he could manage, opened the text.

_He says he can do it, but stressed that he doesn’t do favors for just anyone, so you should consider yourself lucky._

Steve blinked at his phone. Whatever he had expected, that wasn’t it. But it didn’t require a trip to Big Lots, so he tapped out a reply to Natasha while the groom swore heartfelt promises of love and adoration to his bride.

_You’re a LIFESAVER Nat. Owe you!_

_July 4th, Rogers, see you there._

Steve had a harpist and nothing could bring him down. A tangible wave of relief flooded through his body, the vise grip of tension in his shoulders easing off and his hands steady on their own for the first time since 8:02 that morning.

“Got your harpist?” Scott asked as they packed up their instruments.

Steve snapped the side of his case closed and laughed. “Yeah, what gave it away?”

“Well, for one, I wasn’t worried that your violin was going to snap in half under the stress of your fingering.” Scott folded up his stand and attempted a wink.

Luis giggled from next to them. He’d already packed away his cello and hefted the giant case on his back like an oddly shaped backpack. “Glad to hear it worked out, Steve. Next time, give me a little more notice. Yo, I’ve got a cousin who thought about playing the harp in high school. I ought to call her up and see if she still plays. I’ll let you know!”

“Thanks, Luis.” Steve couldn’t help the grin. Ninety pounds of worry, roughly the weight of an actual harp, had been lifted from his chest, and he practically floated off to his next gig.

In a way, really, he had to thank Tony. He hadn’t been looking forward to cramming three gigs into one day to begin with. Now, though? Despite the somewhat ridiculous request that the string quartet play Toto’s Africa, the 4:15 wedding was a joy to play.

He even listened to the couple exchange vows and swooned along with everyone else in the room when one of the grooms teared up declaring his love for his new husband.  

A few more songs and then it was time to pack up for the second time and head to the final site of the day. Dinner was a pb&j on the way, washed down with a water bottle. As he parked in the back of the community house parking lot, Steve’s nerves made an unwanted reappearance. A new musician was a wildcard; hell, he didn't know if the guy was fresh out of school or sixty years old, whether he’d played for a decade or a year. He just knew that Nat endorsed him, so he probably knew what he was doing.

Steve scanned the parking lot from as he unbuckled, curious to catch a glimpse of the guy so he wouldn’t be caught unaware. Not that it’d be hard to figure out; the giant case usually gave harpists away. And the minivan. It wasn’t like those things fit in a Honda Civic.

Steve took a deep breath, let it out with a shake of his shoulders, and got out of his car. Between the heavily marked florist van and twin Priuses, it was easy to guess that the 2010 Honda Odyssey next to them might belong to his mystery harpist.  

As Steve grabbed his violin out of his car, the driver’s side door of the minivan swung open and  a guy stepped out.

And Steve had to take another deep, deep breath for a completely different reason.

Steve’s mystery harpist emerged from the van, a six foot wall of solid muscle barely contained in a button up black shirt and black slacks that clung to his ass like it was their job to highlight those perfect curves. His dark hair was pulled back in a bun that projected professionalism despite the escaped strands that hung down and begged for someone to reach out and tuck them behind his ears.

Oblivious to Steve’s staring, the harpist moved to the side door and slid it open, pulling out a handcart. He maneuvered his harp case out of the vehicle and onto the handcart like it weighed nothing. He turned to consider the building in front of them and gave Steve another fantastic view of his rear. Steve put a hand onto his car to steady himself while several inappropriate comments danced through his head.

Steve shouldered his violin case, beat back the thoughts of _I’d love to bend him over_ and put on his most professional smile before catching up to the harpist, who had just started wheeling his harp toward the handicap ramp by the back door. Steve had to stride more than a little bit to keep up with the guy’s long legs, but he managed to meet him halfway through the parking lot without having to break into an actual jog.

“Hey there,” Steve said, and thanked the gods above that his voice didn’t crack. “I’m Steve, from Star Musician Entertainment? You must be the harpist Natasha got for me for this gig. Let me just say, thank you so much for doing this last minute.”

The harpist faced Steve with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, well,” he said, and paused. His gaze flickered down towards Steve’s shoes and back to Steve’s face and he seemed to consider his words before he spoke again. “She can be very persuasive.”

Steve nodded with a rueful chuckle. “That’s the truth. I’m going to have to play at one of her galas to thank her.”

The harpist shrugged as he pushed his harp the rest of the way up the ramp. “So do your musicians usually cancel on you like this?”

The brusque tone rubbed Steve the wrong way, but he kept his professional smile plastered on and shook his head. “Thankfully, no. Sometimes things come up though, so I just do my best to work through those situations. I didn’t catch your name?”

The harpist gave Steve another once over before continuing. “Bucky.”

Steve couldn’t quite place Bucky’s tone, so he just kept up his polished persona. “Got it. It’s good to meet you!”

Bucky raised his eyebrow again and bit at his lower lip. His really pretty, full bottom lip.

Steve needed to cut off that line of thought. Unfortunately, it meant he started talking about nothing important. “Did you have any questions about the music list Nat sent you? We’ve got a bit of leeway with the preludes, but obviously the ceremony stuff is pretty set.” He tried to close his mouth, but the words just kept coming. “Well, I suppose I mean if you had an issue, hopefully you would have let Nat know ahead of time, and I’m positive if she recommends you, you’re highly accomplished, please don’t think I’m trying to--”

“Steve?”

Oh thank _fucking_ god for the interruption. “Yeah?”

“It’s fine. I can play whatever you need, for as long as you need. Like I told Natasha…” Bucky trailed off for a moment and glanced at Steve’s violin case.

He didn’t finish his sentence, so Steve assumed the rest and nodded. “I promise you’ll barely notice I’m there. Like, seriously. When you set up your harp, I’m pretty sure I can hide beside it and you won’t be able to see me. You can pretend I don’t exist.” He wasn’t sure when exactly he has slipped into word vomit mode, but apparently he was there for good.

Bucky looked over at him again with half an amused chuckle. They reached the ramp at the back of the house at the same time, so Steve waved Bucky ahead and completely missed the way Bucky’s eyes lingered on Steve’s hips before he went through the door. “Turn right when you get inside. We’re going to set up in the back corner there.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Bucky’s voice drifted down the ramp. “I was going to go and set up on the stage until you said that. Right there, under the altar they set up so nicely for me.” Steve made it through the door just in time to see Bucky’s shit-eating grin. “Plus, what do they need an eight foot backdrop for? Is this a wedding for giants?”

Keeping his groan to himself, Steve followed Bucky to the corner, setting up his stand and chair.

“Steven Grant Rogers!” The click of heels against the hardwood floor could only belong to Peggy, also known as _the_ wedding planner in the tri-state area. “Glad to see you’re on time,” she teased, beautiful in her red wrap dress.

Bucky’s godforsaken head perked right up at that comment. “Oh?” He asked, the picture of innocence. “Is Steve always late?”

Peggy laughed. “Goodness, no. Usually he shows up before I have a chance to unlock the venue. He takes his work very seriously.”

Steve blew out a breath and slammed a smile in place. “Thanks, Peggy. Have you met Bucky? He’s my harpist for the evening, new to town, and apparently determined to find fault in me before we begin playing.”

“Hey!” Bucky protested, but Steve fixed him with a flat stare and thankfully, Bucky closed his mouth.

“Steve is one of the best in the business, Bucky. I’d keep him close for some good opportunities.” Peggy glanced from Steve to Bucky again, and Steve fought back the urge to cross his arms and nod.

Bucky leaned in and whispered something in Peggy’s ear. Peggy blinked and then laughed, her whole demeanor changing as Bucky headed back out to presumably grab his music stand and chair.

“Ok, ok. Steve, where did you find him? Just picked up a rock and here’s a harpist who, by the way, happens to be exactly your type?”

“As it turns out, I can’t perform magic of that sort. I would’ve been screwed without Nat swooping in to save the evening,” Steve admitted, completely and pointedly ignoring the second part of Peggy’s comment. There was no need to address it; she had eyes just the same as Steve, didn’t she?

Her eyes sparkled at the mention of Natasha. “She’s got you pinned for the gala now, hasn’t she?”

Steve nodded with an exaggerated grimace. “Last year I held out until July goddamned 1st, you know.”

“Well, there’s always next year!” A sudden noise from the other room grabbed Peggy’s attention and she marched over to investigate, calling over her shoulder, “You guys do a good job! And behave!”

Steve turned to see that Bucky had returned, chair and music stand in hand. A quick change of subject was in order before Bucky started questioning Peggy’s comment. “Anything you want to run through before we get started?”

Bucky shook his head. He set down his chair and pushed his harp case and hand cart to the storage area Peggy had indicated they should use as he added, “Just don’t go speeding off in the arrangements. You violinists love to sprint through a duet.” There was something about the low, teasing rumble of his voice that had Steve’s ears perking up and his thoughts heading south, especially with the way Peggy had behaved after talking to Bucky.

“Noted,” Steve said, trying to keep a straight face as his mind finished the jump into the gutter. With his foot firmly entrenched in said gutter, he couldn’t resist a single probe. “You want to take things slow.”

Bucky held up a hand, tilting his head just a touch. “I didn’t say I need to take it slow. I just need you to pay attention.” Bucky’s expression was intent, like he was saying something meaningful, and Steve’s mind tumbled around to land on one thought.

_Holy. Shit. We are flirting. Right?_

Bucky’s attention was back on his harp to test the tuning, and Steve glanced around the room as though the yards of tulle and gardenia centerpieces could accurately assess the situation for him. Peggy was in the other room, presumably ensuring the bar was ready for the cocktail hour and completely unable to help with his current dilemma.

“I’ve got it.” Steve nodded to his well-worn violin case as he pulled out his instrument. “I promise this isn’t my first wedding.”

“It’s mine,” Bucky stage whispered, and then fucking laughed when Steve froze for half of a second, his violin midway to his shoulder. “I’m kidding! Oh my god, you look like you’re going to have a stroke.”

Steve forced a strained smile and refrained from setting down his violin and grabbing his case to swing at Bucky. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit of a jerk?”

“Probably not often enough,” Bucky admitted with a grin. “But you have to admit you gave me a great opening.”

Bucky’s grin had Steve ready to sigh and shake his head fondly at him. Where the hell was that coming from? Instead, he ran his bow across the strings, checking his tuning and doggedly trying to ignore the part of his mind that wanted to keep flirting.

If that’s what they were doing.

“Ok. Alright. Let’s get to work.”

He probably imagined that Bucky muttered, “I want to get to work on you.” Right?

 

*

 

 

Bucky’s fingers ran over the strings of his harp as he opened their performance with a soft run of notes, the sound swelling over the small crowd of people who’d just arrived, and Steve stared.

_They’re just fingers,_ he tried to chide himself, but he was already too far gone in fantasies of those extremely talented fingers running across his hips.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as if to remind him that, as part of the duet, he ought to play his instrument.

Heat spread across Steve’s face as he came in on the second note of his entrance, adding a little extra vibrato to make up for the lapse. His hands worked independent of his brain to produce the familiar tune and thank fucking god for that. Ever since he considered what Bucky’s fingers on his skin might feel like, Steve’s mind had gone on a sprint back to the nearest gutter and dove right in.

Steve counted the beats and resolutely stared at the music on his stand as if it would prevent him from imagining what Bucky’s hands were capable of.

The wedding wouldn’t be over fast enough for Steve’s comfort tonight, that was for sure. It wasn’t the typical exhaustion of a long day of playing that settled over Steve’s shoulders, no. It was a heady anticipation of what? Telling Bucky he appreciated the appearance on such a short notice? Exchanging contact information in case he wanted some more work if he was sticking around in the area?

It didn’t help that Bucky infused his performance with a personality that wove itself into the air. His notes had a soulful insistence that took up residence in Steve’s heart even as he barely managed to keep from fixating at the way Bucky’s biceps filled out his sleeves. Steve managed his next entrance on time and out of the corner of his eye, Bucky nodded approval.

This was definitely it. Steve was going to die by the end of the gig. Maybe Natasha knew exactly what she was doing when she orchestrated this devastation. And to think he thanked her for it! She was probably laughing her head off at home, comfortable in her bath as she imagined his exact reaction to spending the evening with this veritable adonis of music.

“Thanks for listening to me about watching your tempo,” Bucky whispered in their brief lull between songs. “I’ve had other violinists go off on me for pointing it out.”

Steve smiled and managed to keep from sharing the concerns he’d had about Bucky’s potential oddities as a harpist as he whispered back, “What convinced me was the way you acted like you’d consider murder if I messed up the timing.”

And then he shut his mouth and started the next song, taking the last word for himself.

Before the last note had faded into the crowd of people catching up with each other as they were seated, Bucky was ready with his own reply. “I’ve never murdered a single violinist for rushing.”

“Ah, I see, but maybe a cellist?” Steve grinned as Bucky shrugged in an off-hand, ‘guess we’ll never know’ sort of way.

Bucky plucked his fingers across the strings of his harp, matching Steve’s smile. As they played their way through the last of the guests settling into their seats, the room quieted, making even a whispered word impossible.

Still, Steve couldn’t help glancing at Bucky. Who glanced away super quickly. Steve watched him from the corner of his eyes. Was that a light dusting of red on the edge of his cheeks?

In that moment, Steve realized that Bucky had been _checking him out_. Something like a dam burst in Steve’s chest. The ridiculous swelling pressure of stress that had gathered behind his breastbone starting with Tony’s text and mounting to Natasha’s caveat that Bucky “didn’t like playing with musicians he didn’t know” broke as happy relief rushed in.

Steve looked again. There was no denying it; Bucky met his gaze this time before he unabashedly let his eyes roam over Steve. Steve knew he wasn’t the tallest, most built guy in the room (that honor went to a certain harpist sitting next to him), but he still took pride in his appearance, in his well groomed hair and tailored clothes. And apparently Bucky appreciated it too.

Steve bit his lip to keep back another grin. Tony had cancelled this morning and now some new-to-town drop dead gorgeous harpist was checking Steve out in between songs.

What a fucking day.

Steve’s elation must have spread into his playing, because the next look he noticed from Bucky was eyebrows raised in a clear message: ‘I thought you were watching your tempo.’ Steve half-grimaced out an apology and brought himself in time with Bucky. Together, they played the bride down the aisle in perfect harmony.

As their music faded into the space, the officiant began to talk. Steve arranged his violin on his lap and chanced another glance over at Bucky. His gaze drifted down Bucky’s shoulders and back to where Bucky rested his hand on his thigh, highlighting its thickness, and Steve lost himself in a bit of a daydream. If only he could get his hands on those beautiful legs, maybe trace the seams on the sides before slipping his hand along Bucky’s inner thigh…

Steve had to look away. He took a deep breath, thankful Bucky was still staring forward. It still wasn’t quite enough. Even without Bucky directly in his vision, Steve’s imagination filled in the blanks with creative ideas of how he’d look without any of his clothes. Or maybe pants off, shirt half unbuttoned...

Ok. Steve really had to rein in all of that. The wedding was going to be over before too long, and he needed to be able to walk to the parking lot. Another few slow breaths helped and, careful to not catch Bucky’s eye, Steve focused on the stage too. The officiant had bound the couple’s wrists during a handfasting ceremony. Now they were unwrapping the bonds so that the newly married couple could begin their walk back down the aisle.

That was Steve’s cue, and thank goodness he had gotten his mind out of the gutter just in time. He shouldered his violin once more and glanced at Bucky just long enough to confirm his hands were poised at the ready over his harp strings before starting.

The recessional stretched out, longer than Steve expected. He continued to match Bucky’s tempo, adjusting note by note, when he realized that Bucky was hiding the beginning of a smirk.

Steve didn’t sigh, but he did pick up the pace just a touch, pleased when Bucky adjusted to the _correct_ speed. He couldn’t help the bit of a smile as he thought about how he’d relate the tale to Natasha later, since only another musician would appreciate the subtle humor of nearly imperceptible changes in tempo during the recessional.

Normally, the variation would have driven Steve nuts, but the way Bucky’s lips twitched up at the edges soothed any annoyance. Combined with the fact that Steve doubted anyone at the wedding had noticed that they had taken an extra fifteen seconds to play the song, he was in a good mood as he packed up his violin.

The guests streamed past their corner, a few of them stopping to offer compliments on the music. Most of them spilled out into the large foyer to grab a drink from the bar.

Steve lingered as Bucky wrestled his harp back into the case, a few different thoughts competing for attention. The buzz of noise from the foyer didn’t provide as private a cover for conversation as it did when all the guests were in the main room, so he stuck to straightforward. “It was great playing with you tonight. Thank you again for making it on such short notice.”

Bucky stored the harp in the closet, gathering his chair and stand to bring to his minivan first. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

The side door hadn’t closed completely behind them before Steve added, “Even if you can’t play in tempo to save a life.”

Bucky’s surprised bark of laughter turned into a play of feigned indignation. “You’re lucky that I can match your out of time shenanigans. Damned lucky, I tell you.”

Steve couldn’t help but glance at Bucky’s arms, only half trying to hide his gaze. “Yeah, ok. I agree. Lucky.”

Focused on not hitting any of the cars with his stand as they wove through the densely packed parking lot, Bucky nodded. “Damn straight.”

They passed the last row of cars and Steve’s reason for being around Bucky was about to fade. “So Nat mentioned you were new to the area. You planning on sticking around?”

Bucky nodded as he put down the chair and music stand between the minivan and the car next to him so he could grab his keys. “You just want to know if I can play more weddings for you.”

“Well, that’s at least half of my motivation,” Steve said, the words tumbling out of his mouth without his permission.

That got Bucky’s attention. He turned to face Steve, keys forgotten and a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just half?”

Steve fought the urge to squirm under Bucky’s all-consuming stare, a gaze that lingered just long enough to bring heat to Steve’s face.

“Yeah.” Emboldened by Bucky’s stare, he dropped his voice just a touch lower and added, “You got a card so I can get your contact info?”

Bucky’s cheeks went pink as he had another bout of surprised laughter, an infectious sound that had Steve unable to hide his own smile.

“Yes, you punk. I’ve got a card.” Bucky put his hands on his hips, managing to add a swagger. “You want me to give it to you?”

Steve groaned just a little at the cheesy line, but Bucky didn’t back down from his spot on the side of his minivan. Steve took a little step forward, just enough to make it clear he was interested.

“If we’re being honest,” Steve said, looking up to meet Bucky’s eyes and running with the ridiculous flirting even as his heart raced. “I’d like to give it to you.”

Bucky bit his lip, his breath catching as he nodded, an apparently automatic motion.

Steve grinned. And then he pulled out a card from his pocket and handed it to Bucky, his fingers lingering. At least 49 percent of his brain was malfunctioning from how forward he was acting, but the bare majority was on board, giving him the confidence to smile at Bucky in an open invitation.

“Can I …” Bucky swallowed and glanced around at the parking lot. There was no one else there, everyone either enjoying themselves in the foyer or on the expansive porch at the front of the building. “Can I kiss you?”

Steve’s business card crumpled between their hands as he reached up with his other hand, grabbed Bucky’s collar and tugged him to tilt his head down. Their lips met, the angle awkward but the contact exhilarating. Bucky’s breath was sweet, like he’d been chewing gum, and his lips were warm, soft and almost shy as he pressed into the kiss.

Steve pulled back for just a moment, which had Bucky trying to follow him and crowding Steve against the car behind him.

“I just wanna make sure you don’t feel like you have to do this,” Steve managed to say before Bucky was pulling him back closer.

“If you think you’re coercing me,” Bucky muttered, his breath warm against Steve’s lips, “then allow me to be more direct. I’ve been thinking about this since I first noticed you checking me out while we were playing.”

Steve held back a laugh and didn’t mention how he’d started checking Bucky out long before then. The elation of not having to cancel the gig swirled up with the fact that Bucky was kissing him again. Bucky ran one of his talented hands down the curve of Steve’s back, sending tiny sparks of pleasure dancing out across his body.

Steve teased his tongue lightly against Bucky’s bottom lip, and Bucky let out the smallest whine when Steve didn’t press deeper. The light, breathy sound hit Steve right in the groin. Warmth flooded down his abdomen, setting every nerve to hypersensitive. Even the smooth fabric of his dress pants suddenly seemed too warm, too constricting even in the cooling evening air.

Bucky teased a finger under the hem of Steve’s shirt, the heated contact sparking on the tiny bit of exposed skin. Steve gave in to the urge to feel more of Bucky and shoved his tongue in his mouth, reaching up on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around his shoulders and pull him closer.

Bucky’s whine was a lot more of a breathless groan this time, a direct attack on Steve’s unraveling self control.

“Do you have any clue what you’re doing to me?” Steve’s voice was a deep, throaty whisper, and Bucky nodded, drawing his hands around Steve’s waist and tugging him across the last few millimeters of space separating their bodies.

The thick bulge pressed against Steve’s thigh didn’t need any words, but Bucky had opened his mouth anyhow. “Fuck, Steve, yeah, I think I’ve got an idea.”

Steve threaded a hand up under Bucky’s shirt--shit, he was just as built as the fit of his shirt had suggested--and nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his words tied up for the moment as his brain focused on the most important sensations, the smooth muscle of Bucky’s back and the insistent press of his cock inside his pants. “Yeah. Fuck.”

Bucky’s hands roamed along Steve’s body, never stopping, as though he was desperate to catalog every inch of it in case Steve changed his mind. Firm fingertips traced patterns on the curve of Steve’s ass, dipped against the back of his thighs, ran along the seam of his pants up to his hips again.

Steve was pretty sure he’d melt if he kept his clothes on any longer, but the five still-rational brain cells not focused on Bucky’s thick chest reminded him that even though they were half hidden between cars, they were still standing in the middle of a parking lot.

“Can we,” Steve panted out, the word ending up a sharp gasp as Bucky innocently ran his hand against his chest, rubbing his thumb across Steve’s nipple through his shirt. He closed his eyes to gather his thoughts into something coherent. “Go inside?”

Bucky fixed Steve with a smirk that said he knew exactly what Steve meant, but he was going to pretend to misunderstand him anyhow. “You want me to stop and go get my harp?” He pressed his thumb against Steve’s nipple again.

“Oh my god,” Steve huffed, even as he arched his back to rub up against Bucky’s perfect hands. “In the van!”

Bucky laughed, but he didn’t say no. He grinned as he somehow managed to unlock the van and open the sliding side door without ever breaking away from Steve. “After you,” he added with another maddeningly light brush against Steve’s chest.

“Fuck,” Steve replied, easing through the open door.

Bucky had removed all of the seats in the 2nd and 3rd rows and folders full of sheet music were propped against the other side of the van. Thick blankets were piled on top of the gray standard issue vehicle carpet.

“Gotta protect the harp case,” Bucky said as he crowded into the space behind Steve, closing the door behind him.

Steve had already arranged the blankets into a makeshift pallet against the opposite sliding door. He reached for Bucky, pulling him on his knees across the width of the minivan and pushing him into the pile of blankets.

“Watch out for the cupholder,” Steve murmured.

He gave Bucky a second to adjust to the new position before basically launching himself to straddle Bucky’s waist. He leaned in to kiss him again. Bucky didn’t waste a moment, smashing their lips together as he grabbed Steve’s hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of Steve’s pants. He settled Steve across his waist at just the right angle to grind their erections together.

Too many layers of clothing separated Steve’s dick from Bucky’s and now that they were in the relative privacy of the minivan, he wanted to change that. But first, Bucky’s lips. Bucky slipped his tongue into Steve’s mouth and Steve’s brain short circuited as he imagined that talented tongue on his cock.

“Thinking of something good, hm?” Bucky shifted his hand until he was palming Steve’s cock through his pants, and Steve shamelessly pressed into the firm grasp.

“Mmhmm, thinking of you,” Steve said, rutting against Bucky’s hand, as if he could will Bucky to just _unzip his goddamn pants_ with insistent movement alone. “God I wanna see you naked.”

“I assume,” Bucky replied, closing his eyes for a moment to focus, “that you know how buttons work.”

“So rude! You truly are a harpist, aren’t you?” Steve leaned down, positive he was going to die if he didn’t get his pants off soon, and plucked at Bucky’s top shirt button with the grace of years as a musician, his fingertips brushing against the sliver of revealed skin.

Bucky shivered underneath him. “Fucking violinists, I tell you what,” he breathed out, his voice wrecked. “How the fuck do you make unbuttoning my shirt good enough that I could get off on it?”

Steve whimpered, shifting his hips in a bid to somehow relieve the pressure of his dick pressing against his zipper. All he accomplished was a painful awareness of just how thick Bucky’s thighs felt underneath him. He worked open the next button, another two inches of muscular chest demanding his attention. Steve spread out his fingers, stroked the smooth skin and smiled when Bucky arched into the touch, his eyelashes fluttering closed for a long moment.

“Just wait til I get my fingers around your dick,” Steve promised.

Bucky whined, pressing up against Steve, and Steve swore as his too-hard erection rubbed against the bulge in Bucky’s pants. Somehow, Steve managed to uncross his eyes and focus on his task at hand: driving Bucky crazy and getting him shirtless sometime this century.

The next three buttons were undone in rapid succession and Steve snaked one hand under the remaining fabric just to get more direct skin contact. Bucky’s stomach was warm, pink and flushed and there, _finally,_ just two more buttons and Steve was about to get to the end of the goddamned shirt and all its goddamned buttons. The two halves of Bucky’s black shirt framed the tanned skin and that sweet flush of color as it disappeared under the waistband of his pants.

Steve slid back until he was sitting on his heels across Bucky’s thighs--warm and thick under his ass, it was almost impossible not to just rut against them like a dog in heat--and managed to focus on undoing the metal snap of Bucky’s black slacks. He glanced up at Bucky, fingers poised over the zipper, and Bucky nodded his approval.

It wasn’t easy to slide Bucky’s pants and underwear down his hips while maintaining direct contact with his strong thighs, but somehow Steve’s lust-addled brain managed to coordinate hand eye movements long enough for Steve to shimmy the offending garments down just until Bucky’s cock sprung up.

Bucky’s cock was perfect; just long enough, thick with a beautiful little taper right before the head. Steve wanted to take a picture and frame it, or make a mold and fuck himself on it. His still-trapped erection pulsed at the thought, bordering on pain and he growled. He was never wearing these pants again after how they had been treating him the past ten minutes of his life.

Steve did as promised, and wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s dick, taking a moment--taking several long, wonderful moments--to explore the shaft and enjoy the silky smooth skin under his fingertips. Christ. Was it possible to get off on touching someone else’s dick? The way his cock practically thrummed in his pants suggested that it wouldn’t be _impossible_. And Bucky’s dick was just so pretty.

Tracing his fingers around the shaft, Steve grinned when Bucky pressed up into the whisper soft touch, precum glistening at the very tip of his cock. It almost made him forget the insistent ache in his own pants.

Steve had to do something about it before he lost his mind. Aware of the height restriction of the minivan, Steve shifted carefully from his heels to his knees. Straddling Bucky’s thighs on his knees was almost as good as rutting against them with the muscle firm against the inside of Steve’s thighs. For just a moment, he let go of Bucky’s beautiful cock and fumbled with the button of his own pants, his erection straining against his zipper and making it a harder task than need be.

Finally, _finally_ , Steve got the useless closures on his pants undone and shoved them down with his underwear in one go until they pooled at his knees. He crawled forward a few inches, kicking his shoes off and shuffling out of his pants. His cock dragged along Bucky’s thigh.  
  
Bucky opened his mouth and then closed it, like he couldn’t find a single smart ass comment to make, and Steve couldn’t help the smirk.

“You like what you see?” Steve couldn’t even get the sentence out before Bucky was grabbing him by the waist, practically hoisting him onto his chest.

Straddling Bucky’s thighs had been pleasant, but across his chest? Steve took a deep breath to catch his bearings as even more blood found its way to his dick. He was about two seconds away from striping Bucky’s face with cum if Bucky so much as flexed underneath him.

Bucky molded his hands around Steve’s hips and eased him forward until Steve was nearly pushed face first against the plastic of the passenger door cupholder and Bucky was putting his mouth on Steve’s dick.

Steve gasped as every muscle in his body tensed in beautiful harmony. Fuck Bucky’s thighs, fuck his chest, all that mattered was Bucky’s mouth and the way he was working his tongue around the shaft of Steve’s dick. It was a warm, wet sensation that bathed his body in pleasurable sparks that radiated down his legs and up his back and left him quivering like a taut string. Steve was quite certain he’d have collapsed in a boneless puddle if not for the molded plastic of the cupholder helping to prop him up.

“Ah! Fuck!” Steve breathed out. He writhed in Bucky’s firm grip, and the way Bucky’s hands nearly spanned the whole of his hips was not lost on him. _Fuck_ , Bucky’s hands were perfect and strong, and Steve was so content to just go along for the ride, but somehow he managed to put a hand on Bucky’s arm--Bucky’s bicep was also delightfully firm--and stayed his enthusiastic blowjob for just a moment.

“Am I hurting you?” Bucky asked when Steve pulled out of his mouth.

Steve’s cock was wet from Bucky’s spit, and Bucky’s lips were just as shiny. _Christ._ “No,” Steve assured him, only half able to form words even as he thought _Don’t come on his face. Don’t come on his face_. “Just really wanna fuck you. If that’s ok.”

Bucky’s gorgeous eyes darkened as he nodded. “Yeah, Steve. That sounds--yeah, that sounds good.”

Steve let out a breath and managed to dismount Bucky’s chest without standing too much and bumping his head on the roof. His knee came down on one of the chair anchor points and he swore.

Bucky looked concerned, feeling on the ground where Steve had sat down behind the driver’s seat. “That probably didn’t feel good, did it?”

“No, but it’s for the best,” Steve finally managed to say, holding back a wince. His danged knee was probably already halfway to a bruise, but at least he didn’t feel like he was about to blow his load if Bucky so much as looked at him the right away.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and glanced at Steve’s just-barely fading erection. “I volunteer as tribute.”

Steve laughed. He nodded at Bucky’s pants. “First let’s get those pants all the way off, do this properly.”

“Right. Because fucking in a minivan calls for ‘proper,’ doesn’t it?” Bucky’s grin highlighted the perfect height of his cheekbones and Steve could have pinched himself for how the evening was turning out. Had he really been ready to flip a table some twelve hours ago?

Careful to keep his weight on his left knee, Steve shuffled forward to tug at the waistband of Bucky’s pants. Bucky picked up his hips, his dick bouncing from the movement, and Steve forgot exactly what he was supposed to be doing. Mesmerized, he reached out to touch Bucky’s swollen red dick again. That smooth skin was like the heat of the sun; so good and pleasantly warm that he was almost afraid he’d burn his hand.

Steve stroked Bucky’s cock loosely a few times, thumbing at the slit to collect the shine of precum.

“My pants?” Bucky reminded him in a low rumble of a voice.

Steve half nodded and tightened his grip on Bucky’s dick as he bent over to swipe his tongue across the head, because clearly he wasn’t trying hard enough if Bucky was still giving him sass about some pants.

Whatever Bucky was going to say next caught in his throat, replaced by a beautiful little moan, and that perfect sound sent a familiar surge of heat to Steve’s groin. He sucked on Bucky’s cockhead for a few heartbeats, before taking more of it into his mouth. The velvet smooth skin was a delight on his tongue.

“Pants,” whimpered Bucky. “But this is nice too.”

Steve grinned even as his currently neglected cock twitched to remind him Bucky had given him the go ahead to _fuck him_ and somehow he’d ended up with Bucky’s dick in his mouth instead.

He slid back and smiled up at Bucky. “You’ve got a really nice dick, by the way. Very distracting.”

“Yeah, ok.”  Bucky laughed, but his cheeks flushed just a little pinker at the compliment and said distracting dick pulsed once, inches away from Steve’s face.

In a show of monumental restraint, Steve hooked his fingers through the waistband of Bucky’s pants and helped slide them the rest of the way off his calves. Bucky’s black boots presented the final obstacle and Steve, ready to get his hands around Bucky’s hips, growled at the laces as he tore them undone, taking just a moment to slide off Bucky’s socks while he was there.

“Seriously?” Steve might have been awash in lust and Bucky was, _finally_ , pantless in front of him, but he couldn’t stop staring at Bucky’s magazine cover feet. “Even your toes are sexy.”

Bucky laughed again, but he grabbed Steve by the shoulders and pulled him up closer, dragging their bodies together. Steve considered helping Bucky out of his shirt to get his hands on those arms beneath the fabric, but then Bucky was kissing him again and his mind went a little fuzzy when their erections slid up together.

“Mmm,” Steve groaned as he canted his hips against Bucky’s. He closed his eyes for a moment, and did it again. “Yeah, I could come like this.”

Bucky’s voice was wrecked when he agreed. “If you keep that up, I’m about to--”

Steve opened his eyes. Bucky’s apple-flushed cheeks were framed by copious amounts of dark hair. When had all that hair gotten loose from his once-tidy bun? Steve reached out and ran his fingers through the hair, tucked it behind Bucky’s ear. His fingers lingered on Bucky’s cheek; he was mesmerized by the fact that he could touch this perfect person in front of him.

Something wiggled at the back of his mind, and Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. All this talk and I don’t have a condom or lube on me--”

Bucky grinned, shifting underneath Steve just enough to rub his dick against Steve’s. “Check the center console. There might be some.”

“Don’t wanna get that far from you,” complained Steve, but he managed to shuffled around in the van just enough to reach over to the latch on the side of the console. Nestled between more sheet music and receipts was a solitary condom and the cutest travel sized lube Steve had ever seen. “This lube expired, uh, last month?”

Bucky waved a hand as if to remind Steve that they were in his minivan in the middle of a full parking lot, a wedding reception in full swing just yards away. “Let’s throw caution to the wind just a little while longer.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh as he slid a fingernail under the plastic and broke the seal. “Do I want to know why you’ve got unused lube in here anyhow?”

Bucky grinned, but his ears were pink as he replied. “Always be prepared, right?”

“Right,” Steve agreed as he shuffled his way back over to Bucky. Having had a few moments away from the intoxicating perfection of Bucky’s skin, Steve was able to consider the logistics of what they were about to attempt.

He ran his fingers down Bucky’s stomach, tracing the smattering of hair that started just under his belly button. “You wanna stay on your back while we do this?”

Steve stopped his fingers a half inch from Bucky’s dripping cock and smiled, the picture of innocence. “Or is it ok for me to bend you over into this pile of blankets and just go for it?”

“Yes, holy shit, please.” Bucky confirmed his answer as he shifted around and settled onto his hands and knees, his sweat-stained dress shirt clinging to his back.

Despite his promise to ‘just go for it,’ Steve coated his fingers with copious amounts of lube as he settled behind Bucky, his back to the back of the passenger seat. He reached down between Bucky’s legs and stroked him a few times as his other hand made its way between the cheeks of his ass. Bucky sighed happily as he wiggled back against Steve’s fingers.

Steve pressed in a finger, slow and gentle as he lavished attention on Bucky’s cock with his other hand. He worked Bucky open, gave him time to get used to the intrusion.

“This ok?” Steve asked as his second finger joined his first. He let go of Bucky’s dick, tracing down the shaft until he was cupping Bucky’s balls with a soft squeeze.

“Mmmmmhm,” Bucky groaned out. “You can just do this forever if you want, shit.”

The image of Bucky strung out at the end of an hour of this treatment, begging Steve for his cock flashed in Steve’s mind, and he nearly choked on the air at the sudden wave of desire that crashed through him.

“Probably,” Steve managed to make letters into words despite the very small amount of blood left in his brain. “Probably not this time. Gotta get your harp before the party’s over.”

As if to punctuate his point, Steve added a third finger, pushing in just a little deeper than he’d gone before, squeezing on Bucky’s balls with his other hand and softly grazing his fingernails over the sensitive skin.

“This is good too,” Bucky confirmed with a breathless pant. “I like the little bit of scratching, just like that.”

Steve grinned. He thrust his fingers in a few more times and then, satisfied he could finally enjoy what Bucky was willing to give him without hurting him, pulled back for a moment to tear open the condom and roll it on before using the other half of the tiny lube bottle to coat everything.

He slid into Bucky, the sudden grasp of warm, tight muscle surrounding his cock and almost

making him forget exactly where they were. He had just enough wherewithal to avoid the anchor point on the floorboards as he shifted on his knees and braced himself with a hand on Bucky’s hip. He paused for a moment.

“You doing ok?” Steve was thankful as hell for the opportunity to hold off for a moment. Bucky was quivering underneath him, his powerful thighs on full display and his cock leaking precum onto the blankets below.

“So good. Please, Steve. If you’re ready, I’m so, so ready too.”

Steve nodded, only half-aware that Bucky couldn’t see his face. Gripping Bucky’s hips as tight as he dared, Steve pulled partially out and angled right back in. The constant embrace of muscle was too much. Steve was never going to last more than a minute like this. He wrapped his other hand back around Bucky’s perfect dick, working him into a frenzy as best he could as he thrust back in, trying to make the angle.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Bucky nearly screamed and Steve groaned at the clench around his dick. “Fuck that’s good, Steve. Do it again.”

Steve obliged as best he could, half gone to the pleasurable heat that was building low in his groin, threatening to spill over the moment he gave in to it. He worked his hips back and forth, barely aware of the grunts and groans escaping his mouth, almost completely masked by Bucky’s enthusiastic encouragement.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned out, pushing back from his knees to slam back against Steve. “Oh! Oh, fuck,” he repeated, a chant that Steve savored.

Bucky tensed all over, and Steve pushed back inside again, and Bucky went silent as he came, his head thrown back and his spine curving as his cock pulsed and pulsed in Steve’s hand.

Steve whimpered, unable to survive the onslaught of pressure around his cock. He groaned his way through his orgasm, coming inside Bucky in a state of pure bliss, the parking lot and minivan vanishing for a moment as he closed his eyes and rode out the waves of his release. Every nerve in his body tingled, sang out in joy as he came, and when it was over, he was thankful he’d kept a hand braced on Bucky’s hips, because he was way too close to falling over and losing a battle against the cupholder against the door.

“Gonna have to check the glove box for my emergency kleenex,” Bucky mumbled after a few moments.

Steve nodded before slowly, carefully, sliding out of Bucky. He couldn’t help but to press a kiss against the expanse of skin in front of him before helping Bucky lie on his side to avoid the copious amounts of cum striping the blanket underneath him.

It wasn’t easy to reach over to the front seat and wrangle with the glove box, but Steve managed. “There’s only some napkins in here.”

Bucky groaned. “It’ll have to work.”

Steve turned back around to see Bucky smiling up at him from across the space. He couldn’t help but return the grin as he handed over the emergency napkins. Bucky wiped up before pushing the wet blanket to the side and grabbing for his pants. As Steve took off the used condom and helped himself to an emergency napkin of his own, he was suddenly overcome with a bout of intense nervousness.

“I swear to god I don’t just sleep with all of my new musicians.” Steve couldn’t help the words spilling out, even as Bucky reached to pull Steve closer, to give him a comforting hug. In the aftermath of everything they had just done, shouldn’t have felt so intimate, but it did.

“Only the really hot ones, right?” Bucky winked, and just like that, Steve’s apprehension dissolved.

He smiled up at Bucky’s shoulder and ran his fingers through Bucky’s destroyed bun. “Yeah, so, uh, just you.” And then he settled into Bucky’s arms, marveling at the difference between the day he’d expected and the one he’d actually had.

“Only one more thing to do,” Bucky announced after another minute or two, nodding toward the venue. “I really do have to get my harp back. Not going to lie, I don’t normally leave it unattended for this long.”

 

*

 

Peggy cornered them as soon as they re-entered the venue.

“I was about to assume you wanted to pay deposit on storing your instrument overnight from how long it took you to get to your car and back,” she noted, her tone almost idle and a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Steve said, his shrug just as nonchalant, but his ears burned, especially when Peggy turned her full attention to Bucky.

Bucky hadn’t bothered to put his hair back up, and somehow the tangled waves seemed not only intentional but in fact a fucking beacon of “Steve and I just had some pretty great sex in my minivan.”

 

 

Still, before Steve could get a word in his defense or otherwise, one of the wedding guests meandered over to them with a huge smile on her face and a barrage of questions.

“You guys were ah-mazing! Do you have a card? Can I book you for my wedding? You, specifically?” she added with a nod towards Bucky.

Bucky seemed smug as he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded to Steve. “Talk to the manager. I think he can work something out for you.”

Steve fumbled only the minimum amount as he dug out his wallet and produced a business card. He heard himself mention something about going to the website on the card and filling out the form to get all the details in place. Probably. Peggy didn’t look too concerned, so he was positive his words at least made sense, even if he couldn’t stop staring at Bucky.

He kind of wanted to get back in the minivan with him.

“Well, I’d tell you two to have a good night, but it seems like that might be redundant.” Peggy smiled and stopped just short of reaching out and ruffling Steve’s hair.

Steve waved her hand away, rolling his eyes in friendly exasperation. “Have a good night, Peggy. I’m sure I’ll see you--next week? The Wilson wedding?”

“You know it,” Peggy said. “Until next time, Barnes.”

“Good to meet you.” Bucky nodded at her as he hefted the harp onto his handcart and got in position to bring it outside.

He was heading through the door and back into the parking lot before Steve realized he was staring at his ass instead of following him. Peggy prodded him in the back.

“Go on! Give him a good night kiss,” she said, nodding at the door.

Steve shook himself out of his sudden stupor and bolted for the exit, catching up to Bucky before he was halfway down the ramp. There was a moment of _this is too much intimacy_ and _he doesn’t want to talk about a next time_ , but then he shook that off too. Because if he could get a harpist at the absolutely last minute, then today was clearly his going in his favor and he wasn’t going to second guess anything.

“So, hey, what do you say we see if we can go for round two?” Steve asked.

Bucky turned to face him with the sexiest smirk of a grin Steve had ever seen. He wanted to kiss it right off Bucky’s face. Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “I thought you’d never ask. Your car or mine?”

Steve laughed at the thought of the two of them squashed together on the backseat of his Civic. “I actually have an apartment, too, if you’d like to, uh, get some coffee. Do this all a little more properly. Actual properly. If you’d like.”

Something about the line of Bucky’s shoulders seemed to relax as he nodded. “That sounds great, Steve. Just remind me to text Nat a couple thank yous later.”

“We can probably start a group text,” Steve said. “And buy her something nice for her birthday.”

“Oh, so we’re already to the ‘giving gifts as a couple’ stage of this relationship?” Bucky asked as he pushed his harp between cars, making sure Steve was still right beside him. “Because at the rate we’re going down this path, we can probably plan for a nice fall wedding. I’m thinking mauve and raspberry with silver accents...”

Steve burst out with another round of laughter, thankful they were back at Bucky’s minivan. He had one hand against the minivan and another on his chest. “Yeah, ok. I heard myself. I deserved that. Let’s get back to the ‘coffee and get to know each other after some great sex’ part of this?”

Bucky parked the handcart, checking the harp was well balanced on the ground before putting his hands gently on Steve’s face and leaning in so they could share a kiss that sparked electricity into the air around them. “Let’s do it.”

 

*

 

And when they did get married, a year and a half later, Peggy organized the nicest wedding Steve could have hoped for and Bucky got his wedding colors (which he had confessed he’d wanted since he was ten).

Natasha played them down the aisle on a harp.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to check out Sami's art posts!!  
> [(1) Steve on his cellphone](http://whatthefoucault.tumblr.com/post/182987160776/in-which-steves-day-isnt-off-to-the-greatest)  
> [(2) Bucky playing his harp](http://whatthefoucault.tumblr.com/post/182987163611/in-which-bucky-has-the-face-of-an-angel-and-the)  
> [(3) The sexy, sexy aftermath](http://whatthefoucault.tumblr.com/post/182987165881/they-were-just-getting-something-from-his-van)
> 
> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Mystrana_) :)


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